


The Private Life of Mycroft Holmes

by Cucci



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Caring Mycroft Holmes, Childhood Trauma, Condoms, Drama, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, First Love, First Time, Firsts, Gaeilge, Gay, Gay Sex, Gen, Gentle, Irish Language, M/M, Rating: M, Romance, Sexual Experimentation, Trust, Virginity, Wall Sex, emotion, patience - Freeform, relationships, romantic, soft, virgin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-13 11:13:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20581565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cucci/pseuds/Cucci
Summary: Anyone with even the vaguest of meetings with Mycroft Holmes will tell you that he is an incredibly guarded person who keeps any valuable information about himself shtum.Some have tried for decades to find a way inside Mr. Holmes' world, only to find themselves either coming up dry, or allegedly attacked, or even missing.But, we have an absolutely exclusive inside look!It seems impossible, we know, yet we bring to you tales of Mycroft Holmes which will shock and amaze you with each new twist!Read on to learn each and every scandalous secret that will paint a perfect picture of the man himself.Who exactly is Mycroft Holmes?





	1. In Which Mycroft Gets His First Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Padraic is pronounced 'POUR-ick', although I've heard a few people say 'PAW-rick'. All depends on where you're from. :)

Every second Thursday at 13:40, Mycroft would spend roughly twenty minutes exchanging delicate intel with the head of a partnering department.

Under typical circumstances, such meetings would be, well, _typical_; details would be discussed, 'appointments' would be scheduled, and so on.

However, Padraic O'Connor didn't quite fit the description of typical.

  
And, for whatever reason, that had drawn Mycroft as a moth to a street lamp in August.

People in their line of work weren't chipper and upbeat. It was a simple fact.

If a person started out that way, then they would either change to adapt to the job and survive, or would burn out and either quit or be terminated from employment. If they hadn't quit in the first place.

No, it was rare enough to have that sort hold enough of an interest to pursue such a career, let alone last long enough in the field to hold such a high position.

And, yet, here was Padraic.

He'd been in the field for over a decade, and was, as he always had been -- the human equivalent of pure concentrated sunshine.

He had the uncanny ability to change the entire atmosphere of a room with a smile and a few simple words, could be sympathetic to a fault, and seemed to genuinely care about everyone.

Mycroft couldn't imagine how anyone could live life that way; Padraic was so transparent, letting every little thought or emotion show on his face, showing his weak spots to everyone.

He was so _vulnerable_.

Mycroft found that to be a glaring fault of Padraic's, but could overlook it.

  
Initially, Mycroft had merely been vaguely intrigued by Padraic, but then he'd found his thoughts moving along to things like how gorgeous Padraic's voice sounded when he spoke quietly, the lilt of his accent, or how the one corner of his mouth curled just slightly more when he smiled.

And, then, perhaps, he would imagine how good it would feel to undo Padraic's signature bow-tie, before moving on to divest him of the rest of his clothing.

Mycroft had wondered how smooth Padraic's skin would feel, what it might smell like... Cinnamon, perhaps?

Yes, sweet, and with an underlying spice seemed like the sort of scent he might use.

But, then, Mycroft would come back to reality.

While this wasn't exactly unpleasant, Mycroft did have work to do.

Having risqué fantasies playing through his head had cut into his productivity, and while his work wasn't actually suffering, Mycroft was still angry with himself over it. 

Mycroft had been struggling to make a decision; talk to Padraic, pursue a relationship with him, and experience something new, or work harder at feeling nothing for him.

Strangely enough, it had been just this matter which he'd been pondering as Padraic read a couple of pages of notes, when Padraic had looked over to him and made eye contact.

For a moment, nothing else existed, and all Mycroft could do was look at him and realise that his heart had become involved.

Why did this hurt?

Then, Padraic had slowly come in close, and had placed his lips on Mycroft's, kissing him so tenderly that Mycroft was overwhelmed by how preciously gentle he was being.

His mind went blissfully blank, and had let out a small moan as heat began building in his core.

Thankfully, his office was very private with the blinds having been closed all morning, and his staff knew not to walk in without permission, so there was no risk to their reputations or careers.


	2. In Which Mycroft Becomes Emboldened

Mycroft's knees suddenly weakened, and he momentarily felt that he was falling to the ground like an absolute idiot.

He'd held onto Padraic for much needed support, and without so much as a flicker of thought, he'd pulled Padraic closer and kissed him back with a surge of passion.

Padraic had stumbled backward, barely gripping the desk before they'd both ended up hitting the floor.

Padraic's cheeks went ruddier, and he licked his lower lip nervously.

  
Mycroft felt a need to hold Padraic, closing the distance between them and wrapping him in a tight hug.

It felt odd, and slightly uncomfortable, but good.

Mycroft had felt Padraic gradually relax against him, and it had evoked a warmness in him... And, he realised that he more than liked this man; it wasn't love, but it was inarguably something more than a liking.

He was nervous as all hell, but he was able to suppress that enough to help Padraic through his own.

Mycroft gathered all of his nerve and kissed Padraic, goosebumps rising along his body as a shiver ran through him.

He could swear that he was feeling the static buzz of electricity as the kiss grew more deeper, more intense, and it was beginning to make his head positively swim.

He wasn't used to being touched, and the lack thereof had amplified these physical sensations to a mind-boggling level.

And, it was more than he could take right now.

  
"I have the rest of the afternoon free." Mycroft remarked tentatively, trying to steady his breathing and restore the strength in his back and legs. "Could I possibly tempt you to a late lunch?"

He toyed with his earlobe, as Padraic licked his lower lip and nodded.

"Em, actually, I haven't eaten at all today, so that'd be grand." He answered, remembering that he was, in fact, quite hungry.

Mycroft felt his heart flutter, as Padraic adjusted his black velvet bowtie.

"And, where are we off to, then?" Padraic asked buoyantly, following Mycroft out of his office.


	3. The Chapter Where the Consulting Detective Makes an Appearance

They walked in the sunshine, side by side, taking a paved path through a nearby park, which had turned out to be a regrettable choice; if he'd taken the extra half block, he wouldn't have been spied by his little brother, along with the so-called 'flatmate'.

Honestly, acting for dim-witted crowd was reasonable enough, but thinking they'd fooled Mycroft was nonsense.

His brother would try and keep secrets, though.

If Sherlock hadn't shown time and again that most of his secrets involved unnecessary risks and petty goings-on, then perhaps Mycroft wouldn't feel the responsibility of scouring for indications of his brother's status.

That was part of his job as the elder brother.

"Fancy meeting you like this." Sherlock had called out to his brother, making him cringe with the tinge of delight in his voice.

Sherlock was in the middle of the path, effectively blocking the way with hands in his trademark coat pockets.

He was wearing a wide, artificial grin on his face as he waited for them to approach.

"Hello, Sherlock." Mycroft greeted back, watching as Sherlock eyed him, and then Padraic before looking satisfied with himself.

John finished a last scoop of dirt, and stood up to close the bag.

"Nice day for a walk." He said cordially, thinking it strange to see Mycroft Holmes doing just that.

He was known for taking a car nearly everywhere, and had admitted himself that he wasn't a fan of legwork.

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" Mycroft said in a way that clearly indicated he was in a hurry and had no interest in being slowed down, while remaining polite.

Padraic waited as patiently as he could, however the fact that Sherlock Holmes was standing before him was extraordinary and he jostled slightly on the spot in anticipation.

He couldn't help it; Padraic had been a wiggly baby, who'd grown into a wiggly child and then teenager, and lastly, the wiggly man.

When he was excited, happy, or energetic, he wiggled...   
It was just something that would happen, and he'd never ben able to control it.

Poor Padraic had wiggled nearly entirely through his first concert at twelve years old!

It was something his siblings teased him about back then, and at times, even yet.

John gave him a knowing look, having seen more than a few 'fans' meet Sherlock Holmes, some of them actually having become a tad unhealthily fixated on him.

Padraic blushed, feeling a bit silly, and toyed with a button on the cuff of his gray suit jacket.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your...?" Sherlock let his sentence hang, wondering if he ought to try and coax something of an admission

from Mycroft's company.

Could be fun.

"Associate." Padraic stated, reaching out and shaking Sherlock's hand a bit excitedly. "Padraic O'Connor."

He waited for the typical 'you talk too fast!', though it didn't come; Padraic was pleasantly surprised.

But, then, perhaps they were only being polite.

Enough people would simply smile and shake their heads most of the way through and introduction or attempt at a conversation, rather than ask him to simply slow down.

Which, for the record, wasn't easy, but he was always willing to try and accommodate.

Mycroft closed his eyes, wanting so much for this pain to be over, while Sherlock was clearly enjoying himself.

"I used to have a mate by the same name from when I was around five, until I was maybe thirteen... Went to St. Sappho with him. We played pranks on Headmaster Pfeiffer until he retired... Good times. I don't suppose the phrase _'elephant pee'_ means anything to you?" John asked, as he stood up straighter, looking at Padraic. 

"I'd forgotten about that!" Padraic laughed, cringing a bit at the memory of his mother offering his friends (usually clear) glasses of apple juice while calling it 'elephant pee'.

Padraic had been terribly embarrassed, while most of his friends had chuckled at the joke; one friend, however, did not quite understand that it was, in fact, a joke, and was entirely convinced it was elephant urine and would never touch her portion.

John had joined in the laughter, recalling the look on Padraic's face when his mother would come out with that same old green plastic tray she'd always brought their sustenance out on.

He sighed, wiping away a tear and sniffing. "This is Sherlock Holmes. You've probably heard of him, he's a little bit famous."

The taller man by John rolled his somewhat unsettling eyes, obviously not happy with the attention.

  


Padraic already been surprised to see John again, but to learn that he'd been correct in thinking that this was indeed Sherlock Holmes was a bigger shock.

Padraic's eyes widened momentarily as he concentrated on being calmly thrilled to meet him.

This was actually happening!

"Very nice to meet you, Mr. Holmes!" Padraic said, able to keep reasonably still, and wearing a bright grin on his face. "The ways which you use your talents are remarkable."

"Charmed, I'm sure." Sherlock replied a bit sarcastically, and Mycroft gave

him a squint. "Always nice to meet a fan of my work."

Padraic brushed a stray curl out of his eyes, trying to choose the single best question he could think of to ask.

  
Sherlock gave him a smile that was a bit too tight, and Padraic started to feel uncomfortable. 

John clicked his tongue, seeing that Sherlock was only going to be a brat about this.

For all Padraic knew, the bloke was having a bad day, and so he gave him a pass.

Padraic left him alone, turning to look at John, and tilting his head to the side. "It's been a long time, John. You grew up well; at least while you were the ugly duckling as a kid, you were good one. Others would've taken it out on the other kids, but not you."

They'd met the first time because John had stepped in to help fend off a bully who had decided to beat the daylights out of Padraic for being a 'sissy'.

And, they'd instantly become best mates in the way that only children can.

John chuckled, his eyes squinting shut as he remembered way back when he'd formed Jerkbusters (you might guess, and quite correctly, that he'd loved the Ghostbusters) and had essentially rounded up a bunch of the picked on kids and waged bloody war!

They'd been winning, too, when the school staff had seen the end of their battles.

  
Padraic cleared his throat, remembering a mutual best friend they'd had, who'd been by their sides through thick and thin.

"Do you know if they ever did find poor James?" Padraic asked carefully, looking entirely sombre. "I've never had it in me to even try to find out, but I suppose if there ever is a time to ask."

It had been a living nightmare for them both, when James had gone missing during a multi-family camp; a few nights into the trip, everyone had come to supper except for James.

The adults who weren't watching the kids had called and shouted, searching most of the night.

And, for the first forty-eight hours that James Hope had been absent.

After that, they'd gone home, leaving the professionals to continue looking.

  
John swallowed, blinking quickly as a rush of old grief flooded back.

Sherlock looked worried. "John? Are you all right?"  
  
John closed his eyes, feeling an icy shiver go through him. "No, Padraic, he never turned up. Not even a single decent lead."

Padraic's face fell, his heart sinking. "Oh." He said flatly, having thought this would be the case, though it still stung.

"Yeah, I know... It is what it is, I suppose." John shrugged, ready to get going. "Whatever the bloody hell that means. Still... Well, Sherlock an I've got to get this over to the lab, so, we should probably be on our way."

John cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows. "Sorry, you know how it is. Always short on time."

He put his knapsack on, and reached into his pocket, taking out a card and passing it to Padraic. "We should get together some time, catch up."

Padraic smiled. "That sounds like fun! I'll make sure to use this." He said, sliding it into his front jacket pocket.

Sherlock watched Padraic closely, and Mycroft gave his brother a withering look.

Of course, he'd done the same exact thing to John when he'd come into Sherlock's life when that whole thing had started up.

Sherlock looked over to him and couldn't keep from laughing.

He covered his mouth with a fist, quieting himself, as everyone looked at him.

"Sorry, I just understood the premise of a joke which John told me earlier." 

He lied easily.

Mycroft looked smug. "Oh? Do, tell."

"Can't. Private thing." Sherlock replied with a faux apologetic tone, and Mycroft nodded tiredly.

"Mm-hmm, I see. Well, we really ought to be going." Mycroft told them at last, before turning his eyes on his brother. "We'll talk."

Sherlock smirked before he could stop it, and Mycroft's left eyebrow shot upward.

Sherlock gave a nod, pressing his lips together.

And, with that, Mycroft had gone around his brother and they'd parted ways.


	4. In Which Mycroft and Padraic Come to A Decision

Lunch had been quick and quiet, punctuated only with furtive glances.

Padraic had adjusted to the situation, and was glad that he'd kissed Mycroft after all.

At first, he'd immediately regretted it; that had been because after having landed in the hospital after kissing young man who had lead him on one time in his youth.

Needless to say, the trust he was putting in Mycroft was a big deal.

Padraic tried to clear his head, coming back to his meal of corned beef, potatoes, and brussels sprouts.

It had been one of the lower priced items on the menu, while still sounding decent, and so he'd ordered it. Even so, the entree was nearly thirty quid.

After the waiter had finished taking Padraic's order, and then his own, Mycroft had an idea.

"I don't suppose you'd let me order dessert for you?" Mycroft said, having a particular treat in mind which he'd known Padraic would never consider. "My treat."

And, the best part was that nobody would know that it was so costly by looking at the simple dish; the ingredients included some of the finest cocoas in the world, as well as world-renowned rum. 

Padraic shifted in his seat, feeling awkward.

If he were to accept Mycroft's offer, then he would be indebted to him; this might sound silly, but consider that it's absolutely true.

And, he didn't like owing anything to anyone.

"Oh, I don't know." Padraic answered, looking down at his menu and trying to sound thoughtful.

Mycroft frowned. "There's some lovely cheesecake for £22. We could split the cost." He suggested, thinking it a perfectly reasonable offer.

A quality luxury dessert for £11 was unheard of anywhere in London.

Padraic made a yummy noise, which Mycroft wasn't sure what to make of.

"I can't even remember the last time I had cheesecake, but that's a lot of money. I could make two of them at home for that price." Padraic said, tsking. "And, I can tell you that because I know from experience."

Mycroft was used to paying more for less, and suddenly remembered how different their lives must be.

"Do you bake often?" Mycroft asked, forcing himself to do the small talk bit.

Padraic's face lit up brightly, and he began talking with his hands. "Mam owned a bakery when I was a kid, and I was just absolutely fascinated by the decorations for the tops of the cakes and things. She had me become 'Head Decorator' for 'special orders', which really just meant that I got to chuck whatever I wanted on top for the cakes that went to the neighbourhood youth center every second Friday."

Padraic stopped to take a drink of water. "Then, when I got a bit older, I was easily persuaded to start doing actual work in the kitchen, and I developed a real interest in it."

Mycroft smiled at Padraic's enthusiasm.

The silence was terrible as the inevitable lull came, and the sexual tension only increased.

"It's strange, really, but I can't say that I'm feeling all that hungry anymore." Mycroft admitted after clearing his throat, setting his menu aside. "Of course, if you're hungry then I encourage you to eat."

Padraic looked slightly amused at this last part. "Oh, I'm hungry, all right." He mumbled to himself beneath his breath.

Mycroft raised his brows. "Sorry?"

Padraic smiled. "Nothing at all." He said, tugging at an earlobe absentmindedly. "To be honest, I'd be satisfied with making my own sandwich from a loaf of bread and some deli meat from a shop; I'm not really a restaurant person. I mostly came along because I wanted to see what would happen next..."

Mycroft crossed his legs, finding it difficult to keep still for more than a few minutes at a time.

"Or, we could go to my place and have a private meal there." Mycroft said, wanting to be more comfortable on familiar ground.

Padraic considered this for a moment, looking into Mycroft's eyes.

"All right." He answered a bit breathlessly.


	5. In Which Embers of Lust Begin Burning Higher

They hadn't even gotten out of the car, before they had their hands all over each other.

Halfway to Mycroft's estate, Padraic had nearly made him come from massaging his crotch.

This had pleased Padraic, and he'd unzipped Mycroft's trousers, slipped his hand into his simple cotton y-fronts, and let his aching cock spring free.

Mycroft was well-endowed, being a thick 8", and Padraic was impressed.

"Well done, you." Padraic remarked, before leaning down where he sat beside Mycroft.

Mycroft suddenly froze. "Wait."

Shit, had he really just said that?

Padraic straightened up, looking confused. "Have I done something wrong?"

Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling ridiculous. "I'm inexperienced, Padraic."

Padraic looked stunned.

"You've got to be joking. A fine man like you, still virginal?" Padraic teased lightly, before realising that perhaps humour wasn't the right tactic to be using now. "Ah, stór, that's nothing to be ashamed of. "

Mycroft went to kiss him, but Padraic's attention had been caught by a massive, poufy dog out the window, and he'd ended up with a nose in the ear.

Padraic had dissolved into a fit of giggles, while Mycroft sat there in utter mortification.

The rest of the ride, they'd made out again, right up until Mycroft's chauffer had interrupted to state that they'd arrived at their destination ten minutes ago, and was everything all right?


	6. In Which an Unexpected Matter Arises

Padraic looked down at Mycroft, yielding and slightly nervous; it was a sight he'd compare to a wild tiger in the process of becoming tame; unmistakably dangerous, and yet permitting the brave (or perhaps foolhardy) to come closer.

"Focáil!" Padraic swore under his breath, unable to keep from staring down at him. "Has anyone ever told you how majestic you are?"

A burst of air came out of Mycroft's nose, and he shook his head.   
"I can't say that they have, Padraic." He answered with a touch of amusement. "I'm flattered."

Padraic blushed, feeling some embarassment, before collecting himself and getting up on the bed to straddle Mycroft's hips.

Padraic trailed a finger from the corner of Mycroft's jaw, down his throat to his chest, where his fingertip twirled around a now pert nipple.

Mycroft felt a new sensation begin, and as Padraic began to move along to the other nipple, he'd felt himself hardening again.

Padraic gave him a wicked grin as he'd felt the tip of Mycroft's firm cock straining against those underpants of his, and Padraic had moved to kneel beside him on the bed.

"What do you say we get rid of these, darling?" Padraic asked him, sliding a finger beneath the elastic of a leg hole and tugging at the fabric.

Mycroft hesitated, but then reached down and took them off, letting them drop beside the bed with an added dramatic flare.

Padraic clapped in mock awe, and hurriedly slipped down his own underwear; it bothered him to leave them there on the floor, but he ignored it and went to lie beside Mycroft.

Reaching out, Padraic took Mycroft's hand and looked into those vivid eyes of his, trying to take his cue from Mycroft; he'd never been with a virgin before, and was definitely feeling some pressure.

Mycroft kissed him, and Padraic rolled onto his side, slipping his tongue into Mycroft's mouth.

He could feel a very warm hand hovering above his side, and ran his fingertips along the arm that belonged to it.

Padraic gave him an encouraging sound, and Mycroft let his hand come to rest above Padraic's hip.

Padraic kissed Mycroft's neck, giving the skin a suck.

His impatience was growing terribly, and, the lack of participation was beyond anything he was used to; Padraic wasn't sure if he liked it or not, but wasn't all that interested in finding out.  
Not this time, at least.

Padraic couldn't help grinning against Mycroft's skin; this was a man who was world-renowned for being a man never to cross, and the sheer gentleness he was exhibiting was such a direct contrast.

"It's all right; I won't break." Padraic murmured near his ear, hoping that he'd be able to put Mycroft at ease enough to come out of his shell.  
And, if he was lucky, then Mycroft would be more of a leader in the bedroom.

That had been something Padraic had been certain of long ago, and had definitely been a point to fantasise over; Mycroft was a strong leader in every situation he'd seen him in, it seemed only natural to assume.  
  
Padraic had imagined being entirely at his mercy; begging, pleading, the whole bit.

He'd certainly not imagined Mycroft as a virgin.  
It hadn't even occurred to him that it was a possibility.

  
"Don't think, Mycroft." Padraic advised. "Trust your instincts."

Mycroft never had been able to cast away concious thought, and he'd certainly not managed it then.

He'd taken a deep breath, and grabbed Padraic's arse, illiciting a sort of squawk.

Mycroft ended up dissolving into laughter, which had proven contagious.

  
After their giddiness had died down, it occurred to Padraic that something might be missing.

"Now comes the really sexy bit; do you have lube?" He'd asked, just wanting to check. "I've got a condom, don't worry, it's non-latex. I have an allergy.

Mycroft frowned. "No, I've never had use for it."  
  
"Huh." Padraic said disbelievingly. "Cocoanut oil?"

Mycroft nodded, got up, and went to the bathroom across from the wardrobe.

In his hand was a small glass jar of the stuff.

"Oh, you're more of a 'natural' bloke." Padraic remarked knowingly.

"I suffer chronic dry skin, and this just so happens to be my moisturiser." Mycroft said with an arched brow, sounding annoyed.

Padraic licked his lower lip to keep from breaking out in a smirk. "Well, whatever you use the stuff for, it'll work."

Mycroft shot him a mild glare, getting back on the bed and sitting crosslegged by Padraic's hip.

He found himself glancing down at the sturdy cock that curved slightly upward; Mycroft tried to quiet his mind as he bolstered himself. 

"Is it all right if I -" He'd asked meekly, and Padraic had nodded.

"Of course." Padraic told him, matching Mycroft's vocal level. "I've wanted this for so long..."

Mycroft blinked.

How was it that while he had been so taken with Padraic, that he had failed to see that Padraic felt the same way about him?

How long had this been happening?

What exactly was this, and -

No.  
No, Mycroft would simply have to do better to focus on his body and not his mind.

Mycroft took a calming breath, and then touched the top of Padraic's hip; placing his hand flat, he ran his hand down a lightly furry thigh.

Mycroft sat there, overloaded.

  
This was something that hadn't taken place since the point in childhood before he'd convinced himself to block out emotion after a very painful and traumatic event which had all but killed his innocence.

There was nothing to help conceal his true self now, and Mycroft was beyond overwhelmed and on the verge of an intense panic attack.

Padraic had sat up abruptly, absolute concern on his face.

"Mycroft, are you all right?" He asked in a higher pitch, ready to make a dash for his mobile just in case.

Mycroft nodded slowly, his body feeling as if it was filled with static and ice.

  
Padraic suspected that it was a panic attack, having had plenty of them back in high school when the pressure to choose a career had been put on him.

  
Mycroft swallowed, fear tingling up his legs and arms, a clawed and horrid grip throughout the entirety of his skeleton.

Padraic had held him so that Mycroft was listening to his heart, trying to comfort him as the attack ran its course.

  
Once it was over, Padraic had helped him under the covers, and Mycroft had started to doze.

It had been a bad one. Poor Mycroft.

Padraic felt responsible; maybe he'd moved too quickly, or had missed some sort of cue and crossed a line?

He felt so frustrated with himself that it was tough to stay still.

  
Eventually, after being pinned down for a couple of hours, Padraic had joined Mycroft in slumber.


End file.
